[Mana pool: 8967]Adom descended through the blizzard, the wind coiling around him like a faithful serpent. His progress was slow and deliberate—a controlled fall rather than flight—as he mentally mapped the destruction below. With each foot he dropped, the numbers in his head ticked higher.So close. The Second Circle hovered just beyond his reach. He could feel it, a membrane of resistance in the mana currents, thin as gossamer but unyielding to anything less than perfect technique. Another week, maybe two, and he'd break through.But that wouldn't help the people who had died today.He touched down in what had once been the village square, boots crunching on snow mixed with ash. The smell hit him immediately—burning timber, scorched cloth, and the unmistakable copper-iron tang of blood. The wind had momentarily died down, as if even the elements were pausing to survey the aftermath.Bodies lay scattered across the square—not just villagers, but Farmusian soldiers too. Their distinctive black and red armor was scorched and broken, some still smoking from his lightning strikes. Adom's jaw tightened. He'd hoped some could be taken alive, questioned, but their anti-magic armor had forced his hand. You couldn't incapacitate what you couldn't bind with magic, couldn't knock unconscious with a sleep spell when every enchantment just slid off their protection like water off glass.It had been them or the villagers. A choice that wasn't really a choice at all.But that didn't make the bodies any easier to look at."Casualties?" he asked, not looking at anyone in particular.Damus materialized at his side, sheathing his still-glowing sword. "Seventeen confirmed." The young man's voice was flat, but his eyes told a different story. "Most in the initial attack. They hit hard and fast before anyone could organize a defense.""Seventeen..." Adom murmured, his voice hollow. That was seventeen lives cut short (...)